CHAPTER VI
THE WIZARD'S BELT
It was exactly three o'clock when the two-forty-seven train fromVictoria set Cleek down at Wandsworth Common, and it was exactly fifteenminutes later when he was shown into the modest little drawing-room of17 Sunnington Crescent by Mrs. Culpin herself, handed an afternoonpaper, and left in sole possession of the place.
The letter that drew him to this particular house at this particulartime had come from Mr. Narkom, and was couched in these words:
MY DEAR CLEEK:
A most amazing case--probably the most amazing you have yet tackled--has just cropped up, and I am all eagerness to have you hear the astonishing details as expeditiously as possible. The client is one Captain Morrison, a retired army officer living solely on his half-pay; so the reward--if any--must of necessity be small. His daughter, Miss Mary Morrison, a young and extremely attractive girl, is involved in the amazing affair, and it is at her earnest appeal that the matter has been brought to my notice. As the captain is in such weak health that a journey of any distance is out of the question, I shall ask you to meet me at Wandsworth Common, where he lives. Will you, therefore, be at 17 Sunnington Crescent, Wandsworth, this afternoon between the hours of three and four? The house is the residence of a Mrs. Culpin, widow of one of my Yard men who was killed last autumn. I am wiring her to expect you. But, knowing your reluctance in the matter of any clue to your identity being circulated, I have given you the name you adopted in the Bawdrey affair: "George Headland." I have also taken the same precaution with regard to Captain Morrison, leaving you to disclose your identity or not, as you see fit, after you have interviewed him and the other persons connected with this extraordinary affair.
Yours, etc.,
MAVERICK NARKOM.
Cleek did not even glance at the afternoon paper which Mrs. Culpin hadso considerately left him. Instead, he walked to the open window,through which the summer sunshine was streaming, and, with his handsloosely clasped behind his back, stood looking out thoughtfully at thegroups of merry children who were romping on the not far distant commonand making the air melodious with their happy laughter. And so he wasstill standing when, some ten or a dozen minutes later, the door behindhim opened and Narkom walked into the room.
"Well, here I am at last, you see, my dear fellow," said thesuperintendent, crossing the floor and shaking hands with him. "Rippingday, isn't it? What are you doing, admiring the view or taking stock ofMrs. Culpin's roses?"
"Neither. I was speculating in futures," replied Cleek, glancing back atthe sunlit common, and then glancing away again with a faintly audiblesigh. "How happy, how care-free they are, those merry little beggars,Mr. Narkom. What you said in your letter set my thoughts harkingbackward, and ... I was wondering what things the coming years mighthold for them and for their parents. At one time, you know, that fellowPhilip Bawdrey was as innocent and as guileless as any of those littleshavers; and yet in the after years he proved a monster of iniquity, abeast of ingratitude, and---- Oh, well, let it pass. He paid, asthankless children always do pay under God's good rule. I wonder whathis thoughts were when his last hour came."
"It did come, then?"
"Yes. I had a letter from Mrs. Bawdrey the other day. News had just comeof his death--from Bright's disease, of course--in Buenos Ayres. Hisfather never knew of his guilt; never will know now, thank God! Hemourned bitterly, of course, poor, dear old chap; but--well, Heaventempers all things with its mercy. The rascal did not die an only son.There's another now, born three months ago. The longer I live the moresure I become that straight living always pays, and that Heaven neverforgets to punish and to reward."
"Ten years of Scotland Yard have enabled me to endorse that statementemphatically," replied Narkom. "'The riddle of the ninth finger' was nodifferent in that respect from nine hundred other riddles that have comemy way since I took office. Now sit down, old chap, and let us take upthe present case. But I say, Cleek, speaking of rewards reminds me ofwhat I wrote you. There's very little chance of one in this affair. Allthe parties connected with it are in very moderate circumstances. Thesculptor fellow, Van Nant, who figures in it, was quite well to do atone time, I believe, but he ran through the greater part of his money,and a dishonest solicitor did him out of the rest. Miss Morrison herselfnever did have any, and, as I have told you, the captain hasn't anythingin the world but his pension; and it takes every shilling of that tokeep them. In the circumstances, I'd have made it a simple 'Yard'affair, chargeable to the Government, and put one of the regular staffupon it. But it's such an astounding, such an unheard-of thing, I knewyou'd fairly revel in it. And besides, after all the rewards you _have_won you must be quite a well-to-do man by this time, and able to indulgein a little philanthropy."
Cleek smiled.
"I will indulge in it, of course," he said, "but not for that reason,Mr. Narkom. I wonder how much it will surprise you to learn that, atthe present moment, I have just one hundred pounds in all the world?"
"My dear fellow!" Narkom exclaimed with a sort of gasp, staring at himin round-eyed amazement. "You fairly take away my breath. Why, you musthave received a fortune since you took up these special cases. Fifty orsixty thousand pounds at the smallest calculation."
"More! To be precise, I have received exactly seventy-two thousandpounds, Mr. Narkom. But, as I tell you, I have to-day but one hundredpounds of that sum left. Lost in speculation? Oh, dear no! I've notinvested one farthing in any scheme, company, or purchase since thenight you gave me my chance and helped me to live an honest life."
"Then in the name of Heaven, Cleek, what has become of the money?"
"It has gone in the cause of my redemption, Mr. Narkom," he answered ina hushed voice. "My good friend--for you really _have_ been a goodfriend to me, the best I ever had in all the world--my good friend, letus for only just this one minute speak of the times that lie behind. Youknow what redeemed me, a woman's eyes, a woman's rose-white soul. Isaid, did I not, that I wanted to win her, wanted to be worthy of her,wanted to climb up and stand with her in the light? You remember that,do you not, Mr. Narkom?"
"Yes, I remember. But, my dear fellow, why speak of your 'VanishingCracksman' days when you have so utterly put them behind you, and forfive whole years have lived a life beyond reproach? Whatever you did inthose times you have amply atoned for. And what can that have to do withyour impoverished state?"
"It has everything to do with it. I said I would be worthy of that onedear woman, and I never can be, Mr. Narkom, until I have maderestitution; until I can offer her a clean hand as well as a cleanlife. I can't restore the actual things that the 'Vanishing Cracksman'stole; for they are gone beyond recall, but I can, at least, restore thevalue of them, and that I have been secretly doing for a long time."
"Man alive! God bless my soul! Cleek, my dear fellow, do you mean totell me that all the rewards, all the money you have earned in the pastfive years----"
"Have gone to the people from whom I stole things in the wretched olddays that lie behind me," he finished very gently. "It goes back, insecret gifts, as fast as it is earned, Mr. Narkom. Don't you see theanswers, the acknowledgments, in the 'Personal' columns of the papersnow and again? Wheresoever I robbed in those old days, I am repaying inthese. When the score is wiped off, when the last robbery is paid for,my hand will be clean, and I can offer it; never before."
"Cleek! My dear fellow! What a man! What a _man_! Oh, more than ever amI certain _now_ that old Sir Horace Wyvern was right that night when hesaid that you were a gentleman. Tell me--I'll respect it--tell me, forGod's sake, man, who are you? What are you, dear friend?"
"Cleek," he made reply. "Just Cleek! The rest is my secret and--God's!We've never spoken of the past since _that_ night, Mr. Narkom, and, withyour kind permission, we never will speak of it again. I'm Cleek, thedetective, at your service on
ce more. Now, then, let's have the newstrange case on which you called me here. What's it all about?"
"Necromancy--wizardry--fairy-lore--all the stuff and nonsense that goesto the making of 'The Arabian nights'!" said Narkom, waxing excited ashis thoughts were thus shoved back to the amazing affair he had in hand."All your 'Red Crawls' and your 'Sacred Sons' and your 'Nine-fingeredSkeletons' are fools to it for wonder and mystery. Talk aboutwitchcraft! Talk about wizards and giants and enchanters and the thingsthat witches did in the days of Macbeth! God bless my soul, they'renothing to it. Those were the days of magic, anyhow, so you can take itor leave it, as you like; but this---- Look here, Cleek, you've heard ofa good many queer things and run foul of a good many mysteries, I'lladmit, but did you ever in this twentieth century, when witchcraft andblack magic are supposed to be as dead as Queen Anne, hear of such amarvel as a man putting on a blue leather belt that was said to have thepower of rendering the wearer invisible, and then forthwith melting intothin air and floating off like a cloud of pipe smoke?"
"Gammon!"
"Gammon nothing! Facts!"
"Facts? You're out of your head, man. The thing couldn't possiblyhappen. Somebody's having you!"
"Well, somebody had _him_, at all events. Young Carboys, I mean--thechap that's engaged, or, rather, was engaged, to Captain Morrison'sdaughter; and the poor girl's half out of her mind over it. He put thebelt on in the presence of her and her father in their own house, mindyou walked into a bedroom, and vanished like smoke. Doors locked,windows closed, room empty, belt on the floor and man gone. Not a traceof him from that moment to this; and yesterday was to have been hiswedding day. There's a 'mystery' if you like. What do you make of that?"
Cleek looked at him for an instant. Then:
"My dear Mr. Narkom, for the moment I thought you were fooling," he saidin a tone of deep interest. "But I see now that you are quite inearnest, although the thing sounds so preposterous, a child might beexpected to scoff at it. A man to get a magic belt; to put it on, andthen to melt away? Why, the 'Seven-league Boots' couldn't be a greatertax on one's credulity. Sit down and tell me all about it."
"The dickens of it is there doesn't seem to be much to tell," saidNarkom, accepting the invitation. "Young Carboys, who appears to havebeen a decent sort of chap, had neither money, position, nor enemies, sothat's an end to any idea of somebody having a reason for wishing to getrid of him; and, as he was devotedly attached to Miss Morrison, and wascounting the very hours to the time of their wedding, and, in addition,had no debts, no entanglement of any sort and no possible reason forwishing to disappear, there isn't the slightest ground for suspectingthat he did so voluntarily."
"Suppose you tell me the story from the beginning, and leave me to drawmy own conclusions regarding that," said Cleek. "Who and what was theman? Was he living in the same house with his fiancee, then? You say thedisappearance occurred there, at night, and that he went into a bedroom.Was the place his home as well as Captain Morrison's, then?"
"On the contrary. His home was a matter of three or four miles distant.He was merely stopping at the Morrisons' on that particular night; I'lltell you presently why and how he came to do that. For the present,let's take things in their proper order. Once upon a time this GeorgeCarboys occupied a fair position in the world, and his parents--longsince dead--were well to do. The son, being an only child, was welllooked after, sent to Eton and then to Brasenose, and all that sort ofthing, and the future looked very bright for him. Before he wastwenty-one, however, his father lost everything through unluckyspeculations, and that forced the son to make his own living. At the'Varsity he had fallen in with a rich young Belgian, named Maurice VanNant, who had a taste for sculpture and the fine arts generally, andthey had become the warmest and closest of friends."
"Maurice Van Nant? That's the sculptor fellow you said in the beginninghad gone through his money, isn't it?"
"Yes. Well, when young Carboys was thrown on the world, so to speak,this Van Nant came to the rescue, made a place for him as privatesecretary and companion, and for three or four years they knocked roundthe world together, going to Egypt, Persia, India, etcetera, as Van Nantwas mad on the subject of Oriental art, and wished to study it at thefountain head. In the meantime both Carboys' parents went over to thesilent majority, and left him without a relative in the world, barringCaptain Morrison, who is an uncle about seven times removed, and would,of course, naturally be heir-at-law to anything he left if he had hadanything to leave, poor beggar, which he hadn't. But that's gettingahead of the story.
"Well, at the end of four years or so Van Nant came to the bottom of hispurse, hadn't a stiver left; and from dabbling in art for pleasure, hadto come down to it as a means of earning a livelihood. And he andCarboys returned to England, and, for purposes of economy, pooled theirinterests, took a small box of a house over Putney way, set up a regular'bachelor establishment,' and started in the business of bread winningtogether. Carboys succeeded in getting a clerk's position in town; VanNant set about modelling clay figures and painting mediocre pictures,and selling both whenever he could find purchasers.
"Naturally, these were slow in coming, few and far between; but withCarboys' steady two pounds a week coming in, they managed to scrapealong and to keep themselves going. They were very happy, too, despitethe fact that Carboys had got himself engaged to Miss Morrison, and washoarding every penny he could possibly save in order to get enough tomarry on; and this did not tend to make Van Nant overjoyed, as such amarriage would, of course, mean the end of their long association andthe giving up of their bachelor quarters."
"To say nothing of leaving Van Nant to rub along as best he couldwithout any assistance from Carboys," commented Cleek. "I think I canguess a portion of what resulted, Mr. Narkom. Van Nant did not, ofcourse, in these circumstances have any very tender regard for MissMorrison."
"No, he did not. In point of fact, he disliked her very much indeed, andviewed the approaching wedding with extreme disfavour."
"And yet you say that nobody had an interest in doing Carboys some sortof mischief in order to prevent that wedding from being consummated, Mr.Narkom," said Cleek with a shrug of the shoulders. "Certainly, Van Nantwould have been glad to see a spoke put in that particular wheel; thoughI freely confess I do not see what good could come of preventing it bydoing away with Carboys, as he would then be in as bad a position as ifthe marriage had been allowed to proceed as planned. Either way he losesCarboys' companionship and assistance; and his one wish would be topreserve both. Well, go on. What next? I'm anxious to hear about thebelt. Where and how does that come in?"
"Well, it appears that Miss Morrison got hold of a humorous book called'The Brass Bottle,' a fantastic, farcical thing, about a genie who hadbeen sealed up in a bottle for a thousand years getting out and causingthe poor devil of a hero no end of worry by heaping riches and honoursupon him in the most embarrassing manner. It happened that on the nightMiss Morrison got this book, and read it aloud for the amusement of herfather and lover, Carboys had persuaded Van Nant to spend the eveningwith them. Apparently he enjoyed himself, too, for he laughed asboisterously as any of them over the farcical tale, and would not gohome until he had heard the end of it. When it was finished, MissMorrison tells me, Carboys, after laughing fit to split his sides overthe predicament of the hero of the book, cried out: 'By George! I wishsome old genie would take it into his head to hunt _me_ up, and try thesame sort of a dodge with _me_. He wouldn't find this chicken shying hisgold and his gems back at his head, I can tell you. I'd accept all theArab slaves and all the palaces he wanted to thrust on me; and then I'dmake 'em all over to you, Mary, dear, so you'd never have to do anotherday's worrying or pinching in all your life. But never you nor anybodyelse depend upon an Arab's gratitude or an Arab's generosity. He'llpromise you the moon, and then wriggle out of giving you so much as astar--just as Abdul ben Meerza did with me.' And upon Miss Morrisonasking what he meant by that, he replied, laughingly: 'Ask Van; he knewthe old codger better than I--k
new his whole blessed family, blowhim!--and was able to talk to the old skinflint in his own outlandishtongue.'
"Upon Miss Morrison's acting on this suggestion, Van Nant told of anadventure Carboys had had in Persia some years previously. It appearsthat he saved the life of a miserly old Arab called Abdul ben Meerza atthe risk of his own; that the old man was profuse in his expressions ofgratitude, and, on their parting, had said: 'By the Prophet, thou shaltyet find the tree of this day's planting bear rich fruit for thee andthy feet walk upon golden stones.' But, in spite of this promise, he hadwalked away, and Carboys had never heard another word from nor of himfrom that hour until three nights ago."
"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong, rising inflection. "And he did hear ofhim, then?"
"Yes," replied Narkom. "Quite unexpectedly, and while he was preparingto spend a dull evening at home with Van Nant--for the night was, as youmust recollect, my dear fellow, a horribly wet and stormy one--a messagecame to him from Miss Morrison, asking him to come over to Wandsworthwithout delay, as a most amazing thing had happened. A box marked 'FromAbdul ben Meerza' had been delivered there, of all astonishing places.The message concluded by saying that as it was such a horrible night thecaptain, her father, would not hear of his returning, so begged him tobring his effects, and come prepared to remain until morning.
"He went, of course, carrying with him a small bag containing hispyjamas, his shaving tackle, and such few accessories as would benecessary, since, if he stopped, he must start from there to business inthe morning; and on his arrival was handed a small leather caseaddressed as he had been told. Imagining all sorts of wonders, fromjewels of fabulous value to documents entitling him to endless wealth,he unfastened the case, and found within it a broad belt of blueenamelled leather secured with a circular brass clasp, on which wasrudely scratched in English the words, 'The wizards of the East grewrich by being unseen. Whoso clasps this belt about his waist may becomeinvisible for the wishing. So does ben Meerza remember.'
"Of course, Carboys treated it as the veriest rubbish--who wouldn't?Indeed, he suspected Van Nant of having played a joke upon him, andlaughingly threw it aside. Then, finding that he had taken anuncomfortable journey for nothing, got some good out of it by spending apleasant evening with the captain and his daughter. A room had been madeready for him--in fact, although he did not know it, Miss Morrison hadgiven him hers, and had herself gone to a less attractive one--and indue time he prepared to turn in for the night. As they parted MissMorrison, in a bantering spirit, picked up the belt and handed it tohim, remarking that he had better keep it, as, after marriage, he mightsome time be glad to creep into the house unseen. In the same banteringspirit he had replied that he had better begin learning how the thingworked in case of necessity, and, taking the belt, clasped it round hiswaist, said good-night, and stepped into the room prepared for him. MissMorrison and her father heard him close the door and pull down theblind, and that was the last that was seen or heard of him.
"In the morning the bed was found undisturbed, his locked bag on achair, and in the middle of the floor the blue leather belt; but of theman himself there was not one trace to be found. There, that's thestory, Cleek. Now what do you make of it?"
"I shall be able to tell you better after I have seen the partiesconcerned," said Cleek after a moment's pause. "You have brought yourmotor, of course? Let us step into it, then, and whizz round to CaptainMorrison's house. What's that? Oh, undoubtedly a case of foul play, Mr.Narkom. But as to the motive and the matter of who is guilty, it isimpossible to decide until I have looked further into the evidence. Dome a favour, will you? After you have left me at the captain's house,'phone up the Yard, and let me have the secret cable code with the East;also, if you can, the name of the chief of the Persian police."
"My dear chap, you can't really place any credence in that absurdassertion regarding the blue belt? You can't possibly think that Abdulben Meerza really did send the thing?"
"No, I can't," said Cleek in reply. "Because, to the best of my belief,it is impossible for a dead man to send anything; and, if my memorydoesn't betray me, I fancy I read in the newspaper accounts of that bigTajik rising at Khotour a couple of months ago, that the leader oneAbdul ben Meerza, a rich but exceedingly miserly merchant of theprovince of Elburz, was, by the Shah's command, bastinadoed within aninch of his life, and then publicly beheaded."
"By Jove! I believe you are right, my dear fellow," asserted Narkom. "Ithought the name had a familiar sound as if I had, somewhere, heard itbefore. I suppose there is no likelihood, by any chance, that the oldskinflint could have lived up to his promise and left poor Carboyssomething, after all, Cleek? Because, you know, if he did----"
"Captain Morrison would, as heir-at-law, inherit it," supplemented Cleekdryly. "Get out the motor, Mr. Narkom, and let's spin round and see him.I fancy I should like a few minutes' conversation with the captain.And--Mr. Narkom?"
"Yes?"
"We'll stick to the name 'George Headland' if you please. When you areout for birds it doesn't do to frighten them off beforehand."
II
It did not take more than five minutes to cover the distance betweenSunnington Crescent and the modest little house where Captain Morrisonand his daughter lived; so in a very brief time Cleek had thesatisfaction of interviewing both.
Narkom's assertion that Miss Morrison was "half out of her mind over thedistressing affair" had prepared him to encounter a weeping, red-eyed,heart-broken creature of the most excitable type. He found instead apale, serious-faced, undemonstrative girl of somewhat uncertain age,sweet of voice, soft of step, quiet of demeanour, who was either one ofthose persons who repress all external evidence of internal fires, andbear their crosses in silence, or was as cold blooded as a fish and asheartless as a statue. He found the father the exact antithesis of thedaughter: a nervous, fretful, irritable individual (gout had him by theheels at the time), who was as full of "yaps" and snarls as any Irishterrier, and as peevish and fussy as a fault-finding old woman. Added tothis, he had a way of glancing all round the room, and avoiding the eyeof the person to whom he was talking. And if Cleek had been like thegenerality of people, and hadn't known that some of the best and"straightest" men in the world had been afflicted in this manner, andsome of the worst and "crookedest" could look you straight in the eyeswithout turning a hair, he might have taken this for a bad sign. Then,too, he seemed to have a great many more wrappings and swaddlings abouthis gouty foot than appeared to be necessary, unless it was done to makehis helpless state very apparent, and to carry out his assertion that hehadn't been able to walk a foot unassisted for the past week, and couldnot, therefore, be in any way connected with young Carboys' mysteriousdisappearance. Still, even that had its contra aspect. He _might_ be oneof those individuals who make a mountain of agony out of a molehill ofpain, and insist upon a dozen poultices where one would do.
But Cleek could not forget that, as Narkom had said, there was not theshadow of doubt that in the event of Carboys having died possessed ofmeans, the captain would be the heir-at-law by virtue of his kinship;and it is a great deal more satisfactory to be rich oneself than to bedependent upon the generosity of a rich son-in-law. So, after adroitlyexercising the "pump" upon other matters:
"I suppose, Miss Morrison," said Cleek in a casual, off-hand sort ofway, "you don't happen to know if Mr. Carboys ever made a will, do you?I am aware, from what Mr. Narkom has told me of his circumstances, thathe really possessed nothing that would call for the execution of such adocument; but young men have odd fancies sometimes, particularly whenthey become engaged, so it is just possible that he might have done sucha thing. There might have been a ring or something of that sort hewanted to make sure of your getting should anything happen to him. Ofcourse, it is an absurd suggestion, but----"
"It is not so absurd as you think, Mr. Headland," she interrupted. "Asit happens, Mr. Carboys did make a will. But that was a very long timeago before he knew me, so my name did not figure in it at all. He oncetold me of t
he circumstances connected with it. It was executed when hewas about three-and-twenty. It appears that there were some personaltrinkets, relics of his more prosperous days: a set of jewelledwaistcoat buttons, a scarf-pin, a few choice books and things like that,which he desired Mr. Van Nant to have in the event of his death (theywere then going to the Orient, and times there were troublous); so hedrew up a will, leaving everything he might die possessed of to Mr. VanNant, and left the paper with the latter's solicitor when they badegood-bye to England. So far as I know, that will still exists, Mr.Headland; so"--here the faintest suggestion of a quiver got into hervoice--"if anything of a tragical nature had happened to him, and--andthe trinkets hadn't disappeared with him, Mr. Van Nant could claim themall, and I should not have even one poor little token to cherish inmemory of him. And I am sure, I am very sure that if he had known--if hehad thought----"
"Mary, for goodness' sake don't begin to snivel!" chimed in her fatherquerulously. "It gets on my nerves. And you know very well how I amsuffering! Of course, it was most inconsiderate of Carboys not todestroy that will as soon as you and he were engaged, but he knew thatmarriage invalidates any will a man may have made previously, and--well,you can't suppose that he ever expected things to turn out as they havedone. Besides, Van Nant would have seen that you got _something_ totreasure as a remembrance. He's a very decent chap, is Van Nant, Mr.Headland, although my daughter has never appeared to think so. Butthere's no arguing with a woman, any way."
Cleek glanced at Narkom. It was a significant glance, and said asplainly as so many words: "What do you think of it? You said there wasno motive, and, provided Carboys fell heir to something of which we knownothing as yet, here are _two_! If that will was destroyed, one manwould, as heir-at-law, inherit; ditto the other man if it was _not_destroyed and not invalidated by marriage. And here's the 'one' mansinging the praises of the 'other' one!"
"Collusion?" queried Narkom's answering look. "Perhaps," said Cleek's inresponse, "one of these two men has made away with him. The question is,which? and, also, why? when? where?" Then he turned to the captain'sdaughter, and asked quietly: "Would you mind letting me see the roomfrom which the young man disappeared? I confess I haven't the ghost ofan idea regarding the case, captain; but if you don't mind letting yourdaughter show me the room----"
"Mind? Good Lord, no!" responded the captain. "All I want to know is,what became of the poor boy, and if there's any likelihood of his evercoming back alive. I'd go up with you myself, only you see how helplessI am. Mary, take Mr. Headland to the room. And please don't stop anylonger than is necessary. I'm suffering agonies, and not fit to be leftalone."
Miss Morrison promised to return as expeditiously as possible, and thenforthwith led the way to the room in question.
"This is it, Mr. Headland," she said as she opened the door and usheredCleek in. "Everything is just exactly as it was when George left it. Icouldn't bring myself to touch a thing until after a detective had seenit. Father said it was silly and sentimental of me to go on sleeping inthe little box of a hall bedroom when I could be so much morecomfortable if I returned to my own. But I couldn't. I felt that I mightpossibly be unconsciously destroying something in the shape of a clue ifI moved a solitary object; and so---- Look! there is the drawn blindjust as he left it; there his portmanteau on that chair by the bedside,and there----" Her voice sank to a sort of awed whisper, her shakingfinger extended in the direction of a blue semicircle in the middle ofthe floor. "There is the belt! He had it round his waist when he crossedthis threshold that night. It was lying there just as you see it whenthe servant brought up his tea and his shaving water the next morning,and found the room empty and the bed undisturbed."
Cleek walked forward and picked up the belt.
"Humph! Unfastened!" he said as he took it up; and Miss Morrison,closing the door, went below and left them. "Our wonderful wizard doesnot seem to have mastered the simple matter of making a man vanish outof the thing without first unfastening the buckle, it appears. I shouldhave thought he could have managed that, shouldn't you, Mr. Narkom, ifhe could have managed the business of making him melt into thin air?Hurr-r-r!" reflectively, as he turned the belt over and examined it."Not seen much use, apparently; the leather's quite new, and the insidequite unsoiled. British manufactured brass, too, in the buckle.Shouldn't have expected that in a Persian-made article. Inscriptionscratched on with the point of a knife or some other implement notemployed in metal engraving. May I trouble you for a pin? Thank you.Hum-m-m! Thought so. Some dirty, clayey stuff rubbed in to make theletters appear old and of long standing. Look here, Mr. Narkom; metalquite bright underneath when you pick the stuff out. Inscription veryrecently added; leather, American tanned; brass, Birmingham; stitching,by the Blake shoe and harness machine; wizard, probably born inTottenham Court Road, and his knowledge of Persia confined to Persianpowder in four-penny tins."
He laid the belt aside, and walked slowly round the room, inspecting itscontents before turning his attention to the portmanteau.
"Evidently the vanishing qualities of the belt did not assert themselvesvery rapidly, Mr. Narkom," he said, "for Mr. Carboys not only preparedto go to bed, but had time to get himself ready to hurry off to businessin the morning with as little delay as possible. Look here; here are hispyjamas on the top of this chest of drawers, neatly folded, just as heleft them out of his portmanteau; and as a razor has been wiped on thistowel (see this slim line of dust-like particles of hair), he shavedbefore going to bed in order to save himself the trouble of doing so inthe morning. But as there is no shaving mug visible, and he couldn't gethot water at that hour of the night, we shall probably discover a spiritlamp and its equipment when we look into the portmanteau. Now, as he hadtime to put these shaving articles away after using, and as no manshaves with his collar and necktie on, if we do not find those, too, inthe portmanteau, we may conclude that he put them on again; and, as hewouldn't put them on again if he were going to bed, the inference isobvious: something caused him to dress and prepare to leave the housevoluntarily. That 'something' must have manifested itself very abruptly,and demanded great haste--either that, or he expected to return; for youwill observe that, although he replaced his shaving tackle in theportmanteau, he did not put his sleeping suit back with it. While I ampoking about, do me the favour of looking in the bag, Mr. Narkom, andtell me if you find the collar and necktie there."
"Not a trace of them," announced the superintendent a moment or twolater. "Here are the shaving mug, the brush, and the spirit lamp,however, just as you suggested and---- Hallo! what have you stumbledupon now?" For Cleek, who had been "poking about," as he termed it, hadsuddenly stooped, picked up something, and was regarding it fixedly asit lay in the palm of his hand.
"A somewhat remarkable thing to discover in a lady's bedchamber, Mr.Narkom, unless---- Just step downstairs, and ask Miss Morrison to comeup again for a moment, will you?" And then held out his hand so thatNarkom could see, in passing, that a hempseed, two grains of barley, andan oat lay upon his palm. "Miss Morrison," he inquired as Mary returnedin company with the superintendent, "Miss Morrison, do you keeppigeons?"
She gave a little cry, and clasped her hands together, as if reproachingherself for some heartless act.
"Oh!" she said, moving hastily toward the window. "Poor dears! How goodof you to remind me. To think that I should forget to feed them forthree whole days. They may be dead by now. But at such a time I couldthink of nothing but this hideous mystery. My pigeons, my poor, prettypigeons!"
"Oh, then you do keep them?"
"Yes; oh, yes. In a wire-enclosed cote attached to the house justoutside this window. Homing pigeons, Mr. Headland. George bought themfor me. We had an even half dozen each. We used to send messages to eachother that way. He would bring his over to me, and take mine away withhim at night when he went home, so we could correspond at any momentwithout waiting for the post. That's how I sent him the message aboutthe arrival of the belt. Oh, do unlock the window, and let me see ifthe pretty dears
are still alive."
"It doesn't need to be unlocked, Miss Morrison," he replied as he pulledup the blind. "See, it can be opened easily--the catch is not secured."
"Not secured? Why, how strange. I myself fastened it after I despatchedthe bird with the message about the belt. And nobody came into the roomafter that until George did so that night. Oh, do look and see if thepretty creatures are dead. They generally coo so persistently; and now Idon't hear a sound from them."
Cleek threw up the sash and looked out. A huge wistaria with tendrils asthick as a man's wrist covered the side of the house, and made averitable ladder down to the little garden; and, firmly secured to this,on a level with the window-sill and within easy reach therefrom, was thedovecote in question. He put in his hand, and slowly drew out fourstiff, cold, feathered little bodies, and laid them on thedressing-table before her; then, while she was grieving over them, hegroped round in all corners of the cote and drew forth still another.
"Five?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Five? Oh, but there should be onlyfour, Mr. Headland. It is true that George brought over all six the daybefore; but I 'flew' one to him in the early morning, and I 'flew' asecond at night, with the message about the belt; so there should be butfour."
"Oh, well, possibly one was 'flown' by him to you, and it 'homed'without your knowledge."
SWINGING THE HAMMER, HE STRUCK AT THE NYMPH WITH A FORCETHAT SHATTERED THE MONSTROUS THING TO ATOMS]
"Yes, but it couldn't get inside the wired enclosure unassisted, Mr.Headland. See! that spring door has to be opened when it is 'returned'to the cote after it has carried its message home. You see, I trainedthem, by feeding them in here, to come into this room when they wereflown back to me. They always flew directly in if the window wasopened, or gave warning of their presence by fluttering about andbeating against the panes if the sash was closed. And for a fifth pigeonto be inside the enclosure--I can't understand the thing at all. Oh, Mr.Headland, do you think it is anything in the nature of a clue?"
"It may be," he replied evasively. "Clues are funny things, MissMorrison; you never know when you may pick one up, nor how. I shouldn'tsay anything to anybody about this fifth pigeon, if I were you. Let thatbe our secret for awhile; and if your father wants to know why I sentfor you to come up here again just say I have discovered that yourpigeons are dead for want of food." And for a moment or two, after shehad closed the door and gone below again, he stood looking at Mr. Narkomand slowly rubbing his thumb and forefinger up and down his chin. Then,of a sudden:
"I think, Mr. Narkom, we can fairly decide, on the evidence of thatfifth pigeon, that George Carboys left this room voluntarily," returnedCleek; "that the bird brought him a message of such importance it wasnecessary to leave this house at once, and that, not wishing to leave itunlocked while he was absent, and not--because of the captain'sinability to get back upstairs afterward--having anybody to whom hecould appeal to get up and lock it after him, he chose to get out ofthis window, and to go down by means of that wistaria. I think, too, wemay decide that, as he left no note to explain his absence, he expectedto return before morning, and that, as he never did return, he has metwith foul play. Of course, it is no use looking for footprints in thegarden in support of this hypothesis, for the storm that night was avery severe one and quite sufficient to blot out all trace of them;but---- Look here, Mr. Narkom, put two and two together. If a messagewas sent him by a carrier pigeon, where must that pigeon have comefrom, since it was one of Miss Morrison's?"
"Why, from Van Nant's place, of course. It couldn't possibly come fromany other."
"Exactly. And as Van Nant and Carboys lived together--kept bachelorhall--and there was never anybody but their two selves in the house atany time, why, nobody but Van Nant himself could have despatched thebird. Look at that fragment of burnt paper lying in the basin of thatcandlestick on the washstand. If that isn't all that's left of the paperthat was tied under the pigeon's wing, and if Carboys didn't use it forthe purpose of lighting the spirit lamp by which he heated his shavingwater, depend upon it that, in his haste and excitement, he tucked itinto his pocket, and if ever we find his body we shall find that paperon it."
"His body? My dear Cleek, you don't believe that the man has beenmurdered?"
"I don't know--yet. I shall, however, if this Van Nant puts anything inthe way of my searching that house thoroughly or makes any pretext tofollow me whilst I am doing so. I want to meet this Maurice Van Nantjust as soon as I can, Mr. Narkom, just as soon as I can."
And it was barely two minutes after he had expressed this wish that MissMorrison reappeared upon the scene accompanied by a pale, nervous,bovine-eyed man of about thirty-five years of age, and said in a tone ofagitation: "Pardon me for interrupting, Mr. Headland, but this is Mr.Maurice Van Nant. He is most anxious to meet you, and father would haveme bring him up at once."
Narkom screwed round on his heel, looked at the Belgian, and lost faithin Miss Morrison's powers of discrimination instantly. On thedressing-table stood Carboys' picture--heavy-jowled, sleepy-eyed,dull-looking, and on the threshold stood a man with the kindest eyes,the sweetest smile, and the handsomest and most sympathetic countenancehe had seen in many a day. If the eyes are the mirror of the soul, ifthe face is the index of the character, then here was a man weak aswater, as easily led as any lamb, and as guileless.
"You are just the man I want to see, Mr. Van Nant," said Cleek, afterthe first formalities were over, and assuming, as he always did at suchtimes, the heavy, befogged expression of incompetence. "I confess thisbewildering affair altogether perplexes me; but you, I understand, wereMr. Carboys' close friend and associate, and as I can find nothing inthe nature of a clue here, I should like, with your permission, to lookover his home quarters and see if I can find anything there."
If he had looked for any sign of reluctance or of embarrassment upon VanNant's part when such a request should be made, he was whollydisappointed, for the man, almost on the point of tears, seized hishand, pressed it warmly, and said in a voice of eager entreaty, "Oh, do,Mr. Headland, do. Search anywhere, do anything that will serve to findmy friend and to clear up this dreadful affair. I can't sleep forthinking of it; I can't get a moment's peace night or day. You didn'tknow him or you would understand how I am tortured and how I miss him.The best friend, the dearest and the lightest-hearted fellow that everlived. If I had anything left in this world, I'd give it all--all, Mr.Headland, to clear up the mystery of this thing and to get him back. Oneman could do that, I believe, could and would, if I had the money tooffer him."
"Indeed? And who may he be, Mr. Van Nant?"
"The great, the amazing, the undeceivable man, Cleek. He'd get at thetruth of it. Nothing could baffle and bewilder him. But--oh, well, it'sthe old, old tale of the power of money. He wouldn't take the case, ahigh-and-mighty 'top-notcher' like that, unless the reward was atempting one, I'm sure."
"No, I'm afraid he wouldn't," agreed Cleek, with the utmost composure."So you must leave him out of your calculations altogether, Mr. VanNant. And now, if you don't mind accompanying us and showing thechauffeur the way, perhaps Mr. Narkom will take us over to your house inhis motor."
"Mind? No, certainly I don't mind. Anything in the world to get at aclue to this thing, Mr. Headland, anything. Do let us go, and at once."
Cleek led the way from the room. Halfway down the stairs, however, heexcused himself on the plea of having forgotten his magnifying glass,and ran back to get it. Two minutes later he rejoined them in the littledrawing-room, where the growling captain was still demanding the wholetime and attention of his daughter, and, the motor being ready, thethree men walked out, got into it, and were whisked away to the housewhich once had been the home of the vanished George Carboys.
It proved to be a small, isolated brick house in very bad condition,standing in an out-of-the-way road somewhere between Putney andWimbledon. It stood, somewhat back from the road, in the midst of alittle patch of ground abounding in privet and laurel bushes, and it wasevident that its
cheapness had been its chief attraction to the two menwho had rented it, although, on entering, it was found to possess at theback a sort of extension, with top and side lights, which must haveappealed to Van Nant's need of something in the nature of a studio. Atall events, he had converted it into a very respectable apology for one;and Cleek was not a little surprised by what it contained.
Rich stuffs, bits of tapestry, Persian draperies, Arabianprayer-mats--relics of his other and better days and of his Orientalwanderings--hung on the walls and ornamented the floor; his rejectedpictures and his unsold statues, many of them life-sized and all of claycoated with a lustreless paint to make them look like marble, weredisposed about the place with an eye to artistic effect, and near to anangle where stood on a pedestal, half concealed, half revealed byartistically arranged draperies, the life-size figure of a Romansenator, in toga and sandals, there was the one untidy spot, the oneutterly inartistic thing the room contained.
It was the crude, half-finished shape of a recumbent female figure, oflarge proportions and abominable modelling, stretched out at full lengthupon a long, low trestle-supported "sculptor's staging," on which alsolay Van Nant's modelling tools and his clay-stained working blouse.Cleek looked at the huge, unnatural thing, out of drawing, anatomicallywrong in many particulars, and felt like quoting Angelo's famous remarkanent his master Lorenzo's faun: "What a pity to have spoilt so muchexpensive material," and Van Nant, observing, waved his hand toward it.
"A slumbering nymph," he explained. "Only the head and shouldersfinished as yet, you see. I began it the day before yesterday, but myhand seems somehow to have lost its cunning. Here are the keys of allthe rooms, Mr. Headland. Carboys' was the one directly at the head ofthe stairs, in the front. Won't you and Mr. Narkom go up and searchwithout me? I couldn't bear to look into the place and see the thingsthat belonged to him and he not there. It would cut me to the heart if Idid. Or, maybe you would sooner go alone, and leave Mr. Narkom to searchround this room. We used to make a general sitting-room of it at nightswhen we were alone together, and some clue may have been dropped."
"A good suggestion, Mr. Narkom," commented Cleek, as he took the keys."Look round and see what you can find, whilst I 'poke about' upstairs."Then he walked out of the studio. And a few moments later, Narkom goinground and searching every nook and corner, whilst Van Nant, for the wantof something to occupy his mind and hands worked on the nymph, couldhear him moving about overhead in quest of possible clues.
For perhaps twenty minutes Cleek was away; then he came down and walkedinto the room looking the very picture of hopeless bewilderment.
"Mr. Narkom," he said, "this case stumps me. I believe there's magic init, if you ask me; and as the only way to fight magic is with magic, I'mgoing to consult a clairvoyante, and if one of those parties can't giveme a clue, I don't believe the mystery ever will be solved. I know of aripping good one, but she is over in Ireland, and as it's a dickens of away to go, I shan't be able to get back before the day after to-morrowat the earliest. But--look here, sir, I'll tell you what! This isTuesday evening, isn't it? Now if you and Mr. Van Nant will be atCaptain Morrison's house on Thursday evening at seven o'clock, and willwait there until I come, I'll tell you what that clairvoyante says, andwhether there's any chance of this thing being solved or not. Is thatagreeable, Mr. Van Nant?"
"Quite, Mr. Headland. I'll be there promptly."
"And stop until you hear from me?"
"And stop until I hear from you."
"Right you are, sir. Now then, Mr. Narkom, if you'll let the chauffeurwhisk me over to the station, I'll get back to London and on to theearliest possible train for Liverpool, so as to be on hand for the firstIrish packet to-morrow. And while you're looking for your hat, sir--goodevening, Mr. Van Nant--I'll step outside and tell Lennard to crank up."
With that, he passed out of the studio, walked down the hall, and wentout of the house. And half a minute later, when the superintendentjoined him, he found him sitting in the limousine and staring fixedly athis toes.
"My dear Cleek, did you find anything?" he queried as he took a seatbeside him, and the motor swung out into the road and whizzed away. "Ofcourse, I know you've no more idea of going to Liverpool than you haveof taking a pot-shot at the moon; but there's something on your mind. Iknow the signs, Cleek. What is it?"
The response to this was rather startling.
"Mr. Narkom," said Cleek, answering one question with another, "what'sthe best thing to make powdered bismuth stick: lard, cold cream, orcocoa butter?"
III
If punctuality is a virtue, then Mr. Maurice Van Nant deserved to go onrecord as one of the most virtuous men in existence. For the littleDutch clock in Captain Morrison's drawing-room had barely begun tostrike seven on the following Thursday evening when he put in anappearance there, and found the captain and his daughter anxiouslyawaiting him. But, as virtue is, on most excellent authority, its ownreward, he had to be satisfied with the possession of it, since neitherNarkom nor Cleek was there to meet him.
But the reason for this defection was made manifest when Miss Morrisonplaced before him a telegram which had arrived some ten minutes earlierand read as follows: "Unavoidably delayed. Be with you at nine-thirty.Ask Mr. Van Nant to wait. Great and welcome piece of news for him,Narkom."
Van Nant smiled.
"Great and welcome news," he repeated. "Then Mr. Headland must havefound something in the nature of a clue in Ireland, captain, thoughwhat he could find there I can't imagine. Frankly, I thought him astupid sort of fellow, but if he has managed to find a clue to poorGeorge's whereabouts over in Ireland, he must be sharper than Ibelieved. Well, we shall know about that at half-past nine, when Mr.Narkom comes. I hope nothing will happen to make him disappoint usagain."
Nothing did. Promptly at the hour appointed the red limousine whizzed upto the door, and Mr. Narkom made his appearance. But, contrary to theexpectations of the three occupants of the little drawing-room, he wasquite alone.
"So sorry I couldn't come earlier," he said, as he came in, looking andacting like the bearer of great good news; "but you will appreciate thedelay when I tell you what caused it. What's that, Mr. Van Nant?Headland? No, he's not with me. As a matter of fact, I've dispensed withhis services in this particular case. Fancy, Miss Morrison, the muffcame back from Ireland this evening, said the clairvoyante he consultedwent into a trance, and told him that the key to the mystery could onlybe discovered in Germany, and he wanted me to sanction his going overthere on no better evidence than that. Of course, I wouldn't; so I tookhim off the case forthwith, and set out to get another and a better manto handle it. That's what delayed me. And now, Mr. Van Nant"--fairlybeaming, and rubbing his palms together delightedly--"here's where thegreat and welcome news I spoke of comes in. I remembered how your heartis wrapped up in the solving of this great puzzle and what you saidabout it being a question of money alone; and so, what do you think Idid? I went to that great man, Cleek. I laid the matter before him, toldhim there was no reward, that it was just a matter of sheerhumanity--the consciousness of doing his duty and helping another fellowin distress--and, throw up your hat and cheer, my dear fellow, foryou've got your heart's desire: Cleek's consented to take the case!"
A little flurry of excitement greeted this announcement. Miss Morrisongrabbed his hand and burst into tears of gratitude; the captain,forgetting in his delight the state of his injured foot, rose from hischair, only to remember suddenly and sit down again, his half-utteredcheer dying on his lips; and Van Nant, as if overcome by this unexpectedboon, this granting of a wish he had never dared to hope would befulfilled, could only clap both hands over his face and sobhysterically.
"Cleek!" he said, in a voice that shook with nervous catches and theemotion of a soul deeply stirred, "Cleek to take the case? The great,the amazing, the undeceivable Cleek! Oh, Mr. Narkom, can this be true?"
"As true as that you are standing here this minute, my dear sir. Not somuch of a money grabber as that muff Headland wanted yo
u to believe, ishe--eh? Waived every hope of a reward, and took the case on the spot.He'll get at the root of it, Lord, yes! Lay you a sovereign to asixpence, Mr. Van Nant, he gets to the bottom of it and finds out whatbecame of George Carboys in forty-eight hours after he begins on thecase."
"And when will he begin, Mr. Narkom? To-morrow? The next day? Or notthis week at all? When, sir--when?"
"When? Why, bless your heart, man, he's begun already or, at least, willdo so in another hour and a half. He's promised to meet us at your houseat eleven o'clock to-night. Chose that place because he lives at Putney,and it's nearer. Eleven was the hour he set, though, of course, he mayarrive sooner; there's no counting on an erratic fellow like that chap.So we'll make it eleven, and possess our souls in patience until it'stime to start."
"But, my dear Mr. Narkom, wouldn't it be better, or, at least, morehospitable if I went over to meet him, in case he does come earlier?There's no one in the house, remember, and it's locked up."
"Lord bless you, that won't bother him! Never travels without his tools,you know, skeleton keys, and all that, and he'll be in the house beforeyou can wink an eye. Still, of course, if you'd rather be there to admithim in the regulation way----"
"It would at least be more courteous, Mr. Narkom," Miss Morrisoninterposed. "So great a man doing so great a favour---- Oh, yes, Ireally think that Mr. Van Nant should."
"Oh, well, let him then, by all means," said Narkom. "Go, if you choose,Mr. Van Nant. I'd let you have my motor, only I must get over to thestation and 'phone up headquarters on another affair in five minutes."
"It doesn't matter, thank you all the same. I can get a taxi at the topof the road," said Van Nant; and then, making his excuses to MissMorrison and her father, he took up his hat and left the house. As amatter of fact, it was only courtesy that made him say that about thetaxi, for there is rarely one to be found waiting about in theneighbourhood of Wandsworth Common after half-past nine o'clock atnight, and nobody could have been more surprised than he when heactually did come across one, loitering about aimlessly and quite empty,before he had gone two dozen yards.
He engaged it on the spot, jumped into it, gave the chauffeur hisdirections, and a minute later was whizzing away to the isolated house.It was eight minutes past ten when he reached it, standing as black andlightless as when he left it four hours ago, and, after paying off thechauffeur and dismissing the vehicle, he fumbled nervously for hislatchkey, found it, unlocked the door, and went hurriedly in.
"Have you come yet, Mr. Cleek?" he called out, as he shut the door andstood in the pitch-black hall. "Mr. Cleek! Mr. Cleek, are you here? Itis I--Maurice Van Nant. Mr. Narkom has sent me on ahead."
Not a sound answered him, not even an echo. He sucked in his breath witha sort of wheezing sound, then groped round the hall table till he foundhis bedroom candle, and striking a match, lit it. The staircase leadingto the upper floors gaped at him out of the partial gloom, and he fairlysprang at it. He was halfway up it when some other idea possessed him,brought him to a sudden standstill, and, facing round abruptly, he wentback to the lower hall again, glimmering along it like a shadow, withthe inadequate light held above him, and moving fleetly to the studio inthe rear.
The door stood partly open, just as he had left it. He pushed it inwardand stepped over the threshold.
"Mr. Cleek!" he called again. "Mr. Cleek! Are you here?"
And again the silence alone answered him. The studio was as he had seenit last, save for those fantastic shadows which the candle's waveringflame wreathed in the dim corners and along the pictured walls. There,on its half-draped pedestal, the Roman senator stood, dead white againstthe purple background, and there, close to the foot of it, the greatbulk of the disproportionate nymph still sprawled, finished andwhitewashed now, and looking even more of a monstrosity than ever inthat waving light.
He gave one deep gulping sigh of relief, flashed across the room ontiptoe, and went down on his knees beside the monstrous thing, movingthe candle this way and that along the length of it, as if searching forsomething, and laughing in little jerky gasps of relief when he foundnothing that was not as it had been--as it should be--as he wanted it tobe. And then, as he rose and patted the clay, and laughed aloud as herealized how hard it had set, then, at that instant, a white shapelurched forward and swooped downward, carrying him down with it. Thecandle slipped from his fingers and clattered on the floor, a pair ofsteel handcuffs clicked as they closed round his wrists, a voice abovehim said sharply: "You wanted Cleek, I believe? Well, Cleek's got you,you sneaking murderer! Gentlemen, come in! Allow me to turn over to youthe murderer of George Carboys! You'll find the body inside thatslumbering nymph!"
And the last thing that Mr. Maurice Van Nant saw, as he shrieked andfainted, the last thing he realized, was that lights were flashing upand men tumbling in through the opening windows; that the Romansenator's pedestal was empty, and the figure which once had stood uponit was bending over him--alive!
And just at that moment the red limousine flashed up out of thedarkness, the outer door whirled open, and Narkom came pelting in.
"He took the bait, then, Cleek?" he cried, as he saw the manacled figureon the floor, with the "Roman senator" bending over and the policemencrowding in about it. "I guessed it when I saw the lights flash up. I'vebeen on his heels ever since he snapped at that conveniently placed taxiafter he left Miss Morrison and her father."
"You haven't brought them with you, I hope, Mr. Narkom? I wouldn't havethat poor girl face the ordeal of what's to be revealed here to-nightfor words."
"No, I've not. I made a pretext of having to 'phone through toheadquarters, and slipped out a moment after him. But, I say, my dearchap"--as Cleek's hands made a rapid search of the pockets of theunconscious man, and finally brought to light a folded paper--"what'sthat thing? What are you doing?"
"Compounding a felony in the interest of humanity," he made reply as heput the end of the paper into the flame of the candle and held it thereuntil it was consumed. "We all do foolish things sometimes when we areyoung, Mr. Narkom, and George Carboys was no exception when he wrote thelittle thing I have just burned. Let us forget all about it. CaptainMorrison is heir-at-law, and that poor girl will benefit."
"There was an estate, then?"
"Yes. My cable yesterday to the head of the Persian police set all doubtupon that point at rest. Abdul ben Meerza, parting with nothing while helived, after the manner of misers in general, left a will bequeathingsomething like L12,000 to George Carboys, and his executor communicatedthat fact to the supposed friend of both parties, Mr. Maurice Van Nant.Exactly ten days ago, so his former solicitor informed me, Mr. MauriceVan Nant visited him unexpectedly, and withdrew from his keeping asealed packet which had been in the firm's custody for eight years. Ifyou want to know why he withdrew it--Dollops!"
"Right you are, guv'ner."
"Give me the sledge-hammer. Thanks! Now, Mr. Narkom, look!" And swingingthe hammer, he struck at the nymph with a force that shattered themonstrous thing to atoms; and Narkom, coming forward to look when Cleekbent over the ruin he had wrought, saw in the midst of the dust andrubbish the body of a dead man, fully clothed, and with the gap of abullet-hole in the left temple.
Again Cleek's hands began a rapid search, and again, as before, theybrought to light a paper, a little crumpled ball of paper that had beenthrust into the right-hand pocket of the dead man's waistcoat, as thoughjammed there under the stress of strong excitement and the pressure ofgreat haste. He smoothed it out and read it carefully, then passed itover to Mr. Narkom.
"There!" he said, "that's how he lured him over to his death. That's themessage the pigeon brought. Would any man have failed to fly to face theauthor of a foul lie like that?"
The message ran:
Beloved Mary, come to me again to-night. How sweet of you to think of such a thing as the belt to get him over and to make him stop until morning! Steal out after he goes to bed, darling. I'll leave the studio window unlocked, as usu
al. With a thousand kisses,
Your own devoted,
MAURICE.
"The dog!" said Narkom fiercely. "And against a pure creature like MaryMorrison! Here, Smathers, Petrie, Hammond, take him away. Hanging's toogood for a beastly cur like that!"
* * * * *
"How did I know that the body was inside the statue?" said Cleek,answering Narkom's query as they drove back in the red limousine towardLondon and Clarges Street. "Well, as a matter of fact, I never did knowfor certain until he began to examine the thing to-night. From the firstI felt sure he was at the bottom of the affair, that he had luredCarboys back to the house, and murdered him; but it puzzled me to thinkwhat could possibly have been done with the body. I felt pretty certain,however, when I saw that monstrous statue."
"Yes, but why?"
"My dear Mr. Narkom, you ought not to ask that question. Did it notstrike you as odd that a man who was torn with grief over thedisappearance of a loved friend should think of modelling any sort of astatue on that very first day, much less such an inartistic one as that?Consider: the man has never been a first-class sculptor, it is true,but he knew the rudiments of his art, he had turned out some fairlypresentable work; and that nymph was as abominably conceived and asabominably executed as if it had been the work of a raw beginner. Thenthere was another suspicious circumstance. Modelling clay is not exactlyas cheap as dirt, Mr. Narkom. Why, then, should this man, who wasconfessedly as poor as the proverbial church mouse, plunge into the wildextravagance of buying half a ton of it--and at such a time? Those arethe things that brought the suspicion into my mind; the certainty,however, had to be brought about beyond dispute before I could act.
"I knew that George Carboys had returned to that studio by the dry marksof muddy footprints, that were nothing like the shape of Van Nant's,which I found on the boards of the veranda and on the carpet under oneof the windows; I knew, too, that it was Van Nant who had sent thatpigeon. You remember when I excused myself and went back on the pretextof having forgotten my magnifying glass the other day? I did so for thepurpose of looking at that fifth pigeon. I had observed something on itsbreast feathers which I thought, at first glance, was dry mud, as thoughit had fallen or brushed against something muddy in its flight. As wedescended the stairs I observed that there was a similar mark on VanNant's sleeve. I brushed against him and scraped off a fleck with myfingernails. It was the dust of dried modelling clay. That on thepigeon's breast proved to be the same substance. I knew then that thehands of the person who liberated that pigeon were the hands of some onewho was engaged in modelling something or handling the clay of themodeller, and the inference was clear.
"As for the rest: when Van Nant entered that studio to-night, frightenedhalf out of his wits at the knowledge that he would have to deal withthe one detective he feared, I knew that if he approached that statueand made any attempt to examine it I should have my man, and that thehiding-place of his victim's body would be proved beyond question. Whenhe did go to it, and did examine it---- Clarges Street at last, andthank fortune for it, as I am tired and sleepy. Stop here, chauffeur.The riddle is solved, Mr. Narkom. Good-night!"